


While Waiting

by freakofnature



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attraction at first sight, Editor!Akaashi, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, HQ Rare Pair Exchange 2016, Hardcoregamer!Kenma, M/M, Provolleyballplayer!Tobio, for: Circusfairy, photographer!hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakofnature/pseuds/freakofnature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouyou doesn’t believe in love at first sight. And yet—</p>
            </blockquote>





	While Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> i did it. i fucking. finally did it. oh my goodness. i hope this is to your liking ur liking circusfairy, u asked for a coffee shop au and yet...they only met at a coffee shop im sorry. im v sorry i still hope u enjoy b/c this was a slow descent into akahina hell and idk if im going to crawl out or just lay here for a bit and cry over this rarepair. 
> 
> Also thank you to my two hq skype groups, who listened to my lots of bitching and helped me brainstorm (and procrastinate) this fic. 
> 
> Special thanks to Mia(hanamaki-san) aka full time Meme, for making me write this more often than i would have w/o ur help. Honestly, thank you. so much. Same thanks to the gay ass memeing squad of that hell of an hq group (sar, christa, sof, pj, jo--thanks for yelling @ me when mia wasnt around)

_Beautiful._

That’s what people call him. _Beautiful_. As if they don’t see their own beauty, as if they are blind to the beauty that is _them_. Of course, he didn’t find himself not beautiful, he was aware of the fact that his features often inspired envy in others. But he didn’t understand why people would belittle themselves to compliment him.

_Your hair is so much softer than mine._

_Such a pretty eye color, I’m so jealous_.

Why would someone put themselves down because of their lust for someone else’s features? Why couldn’t they accept that they were also perfect, so _human_ in their existence that it didn’t matter what they looked like? Why couldn’t they just accept that they too were beautiful?

But then there were times when self-doubt clouded his mind, when he swore he could hear bitterness in the compliments given to him. The snide comments behind his back, hated whispers.

 _You’re so pretty_ they would say. _In spite of being so short_ his brain would helpfully supply.

 _Your freckles compliment your eyes_ vs _even though you have such dark skin_.

A battle. An uphill battle that he fought not often, but often enough to seek help for it. A battle he silently waged in the deepest pits of his mind; a battle Shouyou wasn’t sure he was ever going to win.

It didn’t stop him from trying though.

* * *

To this day, Shouyou has never been one to believe in love at first sight. Between witnessing failed relationships first hand and hearing of his friend’s failed relationships, Shouyou is certain that he just isn’t ready yet. He isn’t looking for _the one_ , or for _anyone_ really. He’s just a casual admirer of people’s attractiveness. He would admire the way they held themselves, the way they carried on about their day.

He envies others, just like any other human.

Shouyou has never been one to believe in love at first sight. Despite his attraction towards _attractiveness_ , he didn’t think attraction at first sight is much of a thing either. He prides himself on seeing the beauty of people as a whole, whether it is through the lens of his camera or by simply watching other humans interact with their surroundings.

Beauty knows no bounds, and Shouyou is determined to capture as much of its limitlessness as he could.

* * *

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that Shouyou enjoys the autumn season. He enjoys all seasons, from the humid heat of the summer—blurry heat waves frozen forever in the memory space of his camera—to the frigid cold of winter that would seemingly cover the city overnight with a fresh blanket of snow, each flake desperately trying to cling to every available surface.

But fall seems to be Shouyou’s favorite season. He isn’t sure if it’s the multicolored leaves that surround him as he walks through the park downtown, or the crunch the fallen warriors make underfoot. It could have something to do with warm summer days turning into chilly nights and even chillier mornings, the puff of breath visible as the sun crept over the horizon.

 _Or_ , Shouyou thinks, curling one hand around a warm cup of coffee, _it might be the pumpkin spice lattes_.

“You’re obsessed,” his self-proclaimed best friend says to him one chilly afternoon, his golden eyes fixated on the cup in Shouyou’s hand, “You spend way too much money here…especially on those drinks.”

Shouyou doesn’t reply for a time, content to watch customers filter in and out of the cozy coffee shop. The fingers not wrapped around his cup drum against the wood of the table, tapping to a rhythm only he can hear “And you play too many video games,” he counters with a wide smile before he takes a sip of his coffee. Still too hot, “Yet, not once have I complained about your so called _hobby_.”

“It’s not a hobby; it’s a way of life.” The retort sounds dull even from Kenma’s lips, and Shouyou only throws his favorite best friend a smile before taking shallow sips of his latte. _Perfect_.

They regress into silence after that, Kenma happily tapping away the apps no doubt downloaded onto his phone, and Shouyou making up names and stories for the people that order coffee. The two of them spend their time together in relative peace for once. Kenma has no news about his programing job, and Shouyou doesn’t feel the need to drone on about how breathtaking the sunrise this morning was as he climbed up onto his roof.

Well, he _does_ feel the need, but he knows that Kenma doesn’t find much interest in Shouyou’s lame attempts to wax poetic. He thinks that maybe Tobio would listen to him if he called, but he also knows that Tobio wouldn’t appreciate Shouyou’s early morning calls to babble about _sunrises_. Besides, Shouyou does enjoy not getting beat up by the taller and stronger pro volleyball player when they _do_ see each other face to face.

He’s finishing the last of his latte, a thought forming in his head to get another one before he leaves the warmth of the café when he sees him.

Shouyou is no stranger to beauty; he sees it all around him. He sees it in the way Kenma’s long fingers dance over his phone, in the way the wood of their table is ever so slightly warped by time and coffee spills. He knows that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, that not everyone finds the slight crookedness of someone’s nose to be attractive, or when one ear was just slightly larger than the other.

Objectively speaking, Shouyou is no stranger to beauty but Shouyou is also certain that _beauty_ has never pushed the air out of his lungs in such a way as the person before him did. Distantly Shouyou can hear Kenma say something to him; can see the movement of his friend’s mouth, the way the soft café light makes his lips shimmer.

But the man in front of him, the man only a few steps away, waiting so patiently in line for coffee captures Shouyou’s attention like nothing else has. From where he sits, Shouyou can see the way pale skin is stretched taunt across his body, dark hair falling messily to brush against the nape of his neck. Shouyou watches as the stranger—this perfect stranger—reaches up to brush wayward strands of dark hair from his face. Lashes flutter against his skin, the contrast of milky white against such a dark tone.

He can’t look away.

It feels like slow motion, the way the stranger turns, the way their eyes meet.

Shouyou doesn’t believe in love at first sight. And yet—

“Shouyou?” Kenma’s voice breaks the tranquil fascination of this stranger, and Shouyou breaks his side of their staring match, meeting his friend’s curious gaze, “You okay?”

Shouyou makes a move to press the lid of his cup to his lips before he remembers that there is no more coffee inside. Slowly he places the empty cup on back on the table, letting a smile pull at his features, “Of course! I just saw someone really pretty, that’s all.” At Kenma’s raised eyebrow, Shouyou begins to explain what the stranger looks like, peeking up every so often to snag glances of the man as he ordered coffee.

Halfway through he realizes that Kenma is still watching him, his fingers stilled on the now dark screen of his phone, “What?” Shouyou asks, “Did I say something weird?”

Kenma only shakes his head, pulling his own drink—bitter coffee with too little creamer and too much sugar in Shouyou’s opinion—though his lips are turned up to betray his amusement.

“Kenma,” Shouyou whines, a pout on his lips while he kicked at Kenma’s legs under their table, “Tell me!”

“You keep looking at him,” Kenma says, “You can’t describe him, can you, Shouyou?”

The words don’t sit right with Shouyou, his kicking coming to a halt, the pout falling into a frown, “I can describe him,” he’s confused, that’s what he was doing right? Describing the perfect stranger just a few yards away, right?

Right?

“Don’t look at him, and tell me how you remember him,” Kenma’s words drag Shouyou back to the present, his calm tone calming his rapidly rising nerves.

Shouyou does his best to keep his eyes locked with Kenma’s but after only a few short moments he drops his gaze to study the grain of the wood table, “He’s so pretty,” Shouyou says softly, “his hair is dark—I don’t know what color honestly—and, and it looks so _soft_.”

Kenma only hums at him while Shouyou licks at his lips, fighting the urge to stare at the stranger once more. He could _do_ this. He was a photographer. He could recall how light had perfectly hit Kenma one afternoon in his apartment, the way his black roots had looked soft brown, the way his hair turned into gold.

And yet, he couldn’t find the correct words to describe this stranger not even across the café, couldn’t find a single word in the language he knew that would describe how flawless the man was.

“I can’t,” he confesses mere seconds later, “I can’t describe him, I don’t have the _words_ to.” Shouyou drags his gaze up to Kenma’s, finding a sort of reassuring mirth in their golden depths, “Should I go talk to him?”

With a shrug his best friend returned to his phone, though Shouyou could see the corners of his lips tilted up in a smile.

“You’re a horrible best friend,” he whines instead, letting his eyes wander to the attractive stranger once again, “Why am I friends with you?”

“I think you mean why am _I_ friends with _you_.” At Kenma’s soft laughter, Shouyou only could scoff, not willing to banter back and forth with someone he saw seemingly every other day.

Not when he could be drinking in every detail possible about this stranger.

* * *

 

Shouyou goes about his life, thinking not of how the stranger had given him a fleeting glance as he left with his coffee or how the corners of his lips had seemed turned up in a smile. How _soft_ and delicate his features had looked. Shouyou goes about his life not thinking of any of these things, finding no time to wonder all the 'what if's of the chance meeting with the man he inwardly calls 'The Perfect Stranger'.

Shouyou thinks not of these things; too busy watching the world pass by him, watching as the once warm autumn sun gives why to its milder, colder counterpart. Watching the last leaves cling desperately to branches. Soon--sooner than what Shouyou expects--the multicolored leaves under his feet give away once more to the clean stone of the park paths, trees strung with Christmas lights for the upcoming festivities. Winter has barely made its claim, he thinks as he walks through the park, camera hanging around his neck.

As if granting his wish, though Shouyou doesn't quite remember _making_ such a wish, the city is enveloped in snow a few short days later. He spies it through his window one night, soft white dots catching against his window pane, many other dancing through the city-lit sky. He finds it breathtaking. Not a once in a lifetime shot, but something magical _enough_ that Shouyou barely has time to grab a jacket and shove on his shoes before the itch becomes unbearable and he's rushing out of his apartment, all but sprinting up the stairs to the roof.

He's not sure how long he stays up there, laughing against the cold breeze that caresses his face, hands raised to the sky as he spun around in the snow. He remembers tripping over his own feet, the stumble that brought him to his knees with a gasping sort of giggle. Shouyou remembers lying on the ground, camera pointed to the sky, taking picture after picture with little care as to how they turned out later on.

It's only when the sun slowly peeks over the horizon that Shouyou finally scrambles to his feet, a smile on his cold chapped lips as he brushes snow off his clothes. He can feel the cold soaking in now, can feel it worm its way through the layers of his clothing before wrapping it’s heat sapping grip around his body.

Shouyou finds himself on the roof that one early winter morning, standing on the ledge as he snaps photograph after photograph of the snow dancing through the sky, the white flakes turning a soft pink in the weak sunrays that shine in the sky. Shouyou watches from the ledge of the roof, the sky turn from the dark night sky to pastel pinks and oranges, yellow rays streaking through the colors.

It's magical.

* * *

Mid-winter has Shouyou rushing to his favorite cafe, a scarf wound tightly around his face to keep the cold from touching his skin. He loves winter, loves the way snowflakes stick to his lens, the way he could capture _winter_ with only a few captured images. But Shouyou does not like the cold. He hates the way the heat seeking demon he views as winter creeps into his apartment without permission, the way that it spreads across his flooring so that in the morning he's frantically searching for the socks he kicked off in the middle of the night.

Winter means layers upon layers of clothing, and while Shouyou enjoys picking out scarves to go with his pants and coats that matched his daily color scheme, it was just _more_ to put together which meant that he needed more _time_ to put set outfits together.

And now he was late to meet up with Kenma, whom he hadn’t seen since he had spotted the Perfect Stranger.

Upon bursting into the cafe, Shouyou scans the building for his favorite blond, grumbling when he spied no such person in any of the seats currently occupied. Maybe Kenma was running late as well.

Shouyou steps into the line of equally cold-looking customers, pulling out his phone from his back pocket to shoot a quick text message to Kenma announcing his arrival at the cafe. From his screen he can see the person in front of him shift forward, and without thinking, Shouyou takes a step forward as well, only to crash into the back of the person and fumble with his phone before it drops to the ground with a clatter.

"I'm, _so_ sorry," he automatically apologizes, nervous laughter bubbling from his lips, "I wasn't paying attention, it's totally my fault." He's about to bend down to grab his phone when it's collected by long fingers and a slim palm, extended out to Shouyou moments later, "Um…"

"You dropped this."

The first thing that pops into Shouyou's mind is that the voice sounds _calm_ , followed by _relaxing_. The man's voice isn't too deep, and Shouyou decides that it fits him. From the long pale fingers, slim palm, skinny wrist. The voice—smooth and monotonous, yet not emotionless—soothes Shouyou's nerves, washing away his idea to just keep babbling his apologies.

"Thank you," he manages to say after what he feels is much too long of a pause. His fingers seemingly flit around the other's palm, his own skin tone so much darker in comparison. For a moment he wishes he was paler, that he could blend into society in such a way as this person no doubt could. Brushing against the un-cracked screen of his phone, Shouyou pulls his hand away with another laugh, choosing that moment to look up at the stranger, another thanks on the tip of his tongue.

It dies the moment his gaze rests upon the stranger's face, and Shouyou is fairly certain that his mouth is open and at any moment drool is going to spill out. Kenma would surely make fun of him forever if that were to actually happen.

It _him_. The Perfect Stranger. Standing in front of him, with his phone in his palm.

Oh god he had Shouyou’s _phone_.

What should he _do_?

"Oh," he manages to force out of his mouth, the mental battle he had between his lips and tongue tipping in his favor for the time being, "um, thank you...again."

Unlike the first time they had locked gazes, Shouyou can see the dark green color of Perfect Stranger's eyes, can see that smooth milk skin up close, his brain making the passing thought that it looked soft. Shouyou notices how his nose wasn’t perfectly straight, the bridge slightly crooked in a way that belied a broken nose in his younger years.

"Your phone," he spoke again, and this time Shouyou jumps, another laugh filling the air around them. He sees the small smile Perfect Stranger gives him as he grabs for his cell, hoping for once that Kenma wasn’t at the cafe and he could just. Pretend that he didn’t make a complete fool of himself.

"Yep, thank you!" Though nervous, Shouyou smiles at this perfect human he had only seen once before, "thank god it didn’t crack, right?"

A hum sounds from Perfect Stranger's throat, and he momentarily turns around to take a few calculated steps forward before turning back to Shouyou, who had done the same.

"You're really pretty, did you know that?" Shouyou blurts out, the smile on his face freezing in horror.

Maybe he did need Kenma. He totally needs Kenma _right now_ to get him out of here.

It's only soft laughter—reminiscent of angels singing, of spring wind flowing through the trees--that pulls him from his thoughts, and he watches as Perfect Stranger's eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his nose crunches up ever so slightly, how his hand automatically covers his mouth.

Shouyou has never wanted to photograph someone so badly in his life before.

"Next!" the cashier's words shatter their little moment, and the stranger only gives Shouyou another smile before turning around and placing his order. By the time Shouyou is done placing his, he finds the other pouring creamer into his otherwise black coffee.

"Why don’t you just ask them to put creamer in it?" Shouyou finds himself asking before he can stop himself, passing a smile to the barista making his drink. Sadly the days of pumpkin spice lattes were over, and while the sharp scent of sweet peppermint smelled delicious, Shouyou often opted to get his favorite year-round drink, a simple chai tea latte, with extra chai of course.

"It's easier to do it myself," the green eyed stranger answers him, and Shouyou only hums his reply, eyes darting around the cafe to see if Kenma had arrived yet. He hadn’t gotten a text saying his friend was going to be late...

Though it was entirely possible that something had happened at work last minute and Kenma was currently passed out somewhere in his apartment, sleeping the day away instead of talking to Shouyou like he promised. A smile quirked his lips up at the thought, thanking the barista who handed his drink to him.

Surprisingly, the stranger was still standing around, taking careful sips of his coffee.

"Did you want to sit with me?" Shouyou starts at the question, and looks up at the stranger, seeing a gentle smile on his face, "Or do you have other plans?"

"Oh!" Shouyou shakes his head, inwardly telling himself to not jump up and down like the small child he often was mistaken for, "No, no. No other plans! I would...really like sitting with you yes, that would be wonderful."

When the stranger huffed out a laugh and turned to go find them a seat, Shouyou was thankful that his dark skin hid the flush he felt rising to his cheeks.

What was he getting himself into?

* * *

 Akaashi Keiji.

That was Perfect Stranger's name.

Akaashi Keiji, an editor for a publishing company only a few blocks down the road.

Akaashi Keiji who liked coffee a little too much, and got too little sleep. Akaashi Keiji with his dark hair, thin lips, smooth skin.

Shouyou has never been one to believe in love at first sight, or rather _attraction_ at first sight, but even Shouyou couldn’t lie that their first meeting back in late autumn had caught his attention. And months later, in the dead of winter, they had found each other again, lips chapped from the cold, and fingers defrosting against the warmth of their respectable drinks.

They had sat in the cafe for hours, trading back stories about their jobs--Shouyou found that Akaashi didn’t mind him rambling on about sunrises and sunsets and how the rays of the winter sun made everything seem fresh--their drinks growing colder until Shouyou offered to pay for their refills, a bounce in his step, and a grin on his face he couldn’t shake off.

About an hour into their chat, he received a text from Kenma, a simple apology about how work had dropped unnecessary things on him last minute (again), and that he had to stay up two nights in a row to make sure everything would arrive before the deadline, and then had passed out on the couch for just over 16 hours. Shouyou sent a quick text back—they could always meet up later that week—before returning his attention to the perfect man in front of him.

* * *

 To: Akaashi Keiji

From: Hinata Shouyou

_ahhh look at this sunrise pic i took with kenma!!! we look so cute!!!_

 

From: Akaashi Keiji

To: Hinata Shouyou

_Good morning to you as well, Hinata. You both look very nice in that photo._

* * *

Christmas comes and goes in the Hinata household, with Shouyou taking the train to Miyagi a few days prior to the national holiday and leaving two days after the fact. He spends the time with his family, going on outings that Natsu—in all her 17 year old glory—called ‘childish'. Between their parents and Shouyou himself, they managed to drag Natsu on _most_ of the family excursions, save for a few where she claimed that she had 'other plans'.

Embarrassing his younger sister aside, Shouyou finds taking homely pictures of his family relaxing in a way that nature is not. The warmth of his childhood home settles in his bones, smooths away the wrinkles the city presses into his face. Home makes him feel young again, like a child excited to be back in the care of his parents. Yet it also makes him feel much like a stranger, looking in on his family for the first time in months. Shouyou finds it odd, thinking that so many years have passed in this house, and that the dent in the wall is from his days of playing volleyball, and that the stain on the left cushion of the couch—a small blotch that resembles a sleeping cat—is from his third year of high school, where he and Tobio had gotten drunk after their last game of the season, and fought over the wine they had stolen from Tobio's parent's house.

Shouyou misses his childhood home, filled with memories at every corner, at every small dent and scratch. But he finds that his childhood home, his parents’ home, is no longer _his_ home. The bed he sleeps in is too small for him now, the posters still tacked on his wall are no longer the things that hold his interest. Volleyball medals won, tears shed over things he no longer finds pleasure in. A color scheme he has long out grown, a clothing style he can no longer call his own.

His parents’ home is no longer his, proof that Shouyou has grown up, has moved on. Proof of adulthood.

On the train ride back, Shouyou scrolls through the many pictures he had taken of him and his family, small laughs escaping his lips at some of the pictures Natsu had taken instead of him.

Inside his coat pocket, his phone buzzes.

 

From: Akaashi Keiji

To: Hinata Shouyou

_Are we still okay for New Year's Eve?_

 

A smile worms its way onto Shouyou's face, and he presses the screen of his phone to his lips to hide it, moments later having to delete the random jumble of letters his lips had pressed into the text box below.

 

To: Akaashi Keiji

From: Hinata Shouyou

_yes!!! ofc, akaashi. i'm on the train back from my parents, r u back in town yet?_

 

It's not until Shouyou returns to the cold stale air of his own apartment that he notices that Akaashi had replied to him.

 

From: Akaashi Keiji

To: Hinata Shouyou

_Not yet, sorry. I come back on the 29th, so I will likely not see you until our plans on New Year's Eve. Is that okay?_

 

A quick response is sent before Shouyou decides that sitting on a train for the better part of the day isn’t the _cleanest_ thing to do and a shower is definitely in order.

* * *

The last day of the year Shouyou often thinks it’s the coldest. Rather than the temperature being low, he finds that the memories from the year make December 31st one of the coldest nights.

Reflection. Regret. Sadness. Things people think back on, things they wish they could change. It's cold, knowing that those things, and those consequences of those past actions, are things one can't change. It's cold, wishing for something that can never be. It's just…c _old_.

This New Year's Eve seems to be warmer. His house isn’t dark with the television on mute as Shouyou lays on his couch, thinking about the year. Thinking back on his successes, of his failures. This year doesn’t have him wishing Tobio was back in the country, wishing that his old partner would keep him company. This year doesn’t have Shouyou inwardly hating the fact that despite Kenma's lack of romance he was in a happy relationship with his childhood best friend.

This year Shouyou isn't alone.

"Shouyou?" cool fingers dance along the inside of his wrist, gentle in their prodding, in dragging him back from the depths of his mind. Quietly guiding him back to the here and now, to the warmth of his apartment.

To Akaashi.

"Oh," is all Shouyou finds himself able to say to Akaashi for a moment, eyes wide as he takes in his apartment, "sorry! I spaced out. I'm not..."

Akaashi doesn't let him finish his statement, those cool fingers slotting between the spaces of Shouyou's fingers, "It's almost midnight," Akaashi says, calm and patient. Not for the first time, Shouyou thinks that he doesn’t deserve this perfect man, "Did you still want to go to the roof?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I would!" Shouyou jumps off the couch, a gasp echoing in the room as he stares at the clock, "Akaashi, we only have 5 minutes until the New Year, we have to _hurry_!" As he darts around the room, grabbing his camera and a jacket—only to trade it for a heavier coat when he sees the frost on his window—he hears Akaashi's soft laughter.

Akaashi just isn’t fair sometimes.

Somehow they manage to get to the roof with only a few minutes to spare, and Shouyou presses himself against Akaashi's side, enjoying the sound of small pockets of fireworks being set off in the surrounding neighborhoods. At a minute to midnight the world goes silent. Shouyou can hear no cars, none of the distant murmurings of the city people that usually reaches his ears up on the roof.

The world is silent for the last 60 seconds of the year.

"Shouyou?" Akaashi's soft voice doesn't shatter the silence, but breaks it in a way that doesn't make Shouyou miss the previous quiet.

_(40 seconds)_

"Yeah?" he answers, turning his face up to meet Akaashi's warm gaze. He feels a rush of heat spread through his body, and Shouyou isn’t sure if its attraction or just _warmth_ at how Akaashi looks at him. Maybe, he thinks, it’s a mix of both.

_(25 seconds)_

"Can I kiss you?" are the next words out of Akaashi's mouth, and Shouyou has to think for a second as to _why_ Akaashi would ask such a question, until it dawns on him that besides the quick kisses they had pressed against each other's cheeks, they had yet to share a _true_ kiss.

"Of course," his answer is soft, almost lost in the sound of a last minute firework.

_(15 seconds)_

Akaashi cups Shouyou's cheek with a gloved hand, the cotton fabric warm against Shouyou's winter flushed cheeks. Shouyou in reply turns his body ever so slightly, rocking up onto his toes as Akaashi ducks down.

_(8 seconds)_

Closing that last bit of space between them.

_(2 seconds)_

The first firework goes off from the center of the city, a display to mark the New Year. Akaashi's breath puffs over Shouyou's lips, a smile curving both of their lips for a moment before--

_(0 seconds)_

Their lips press together, the frantic sounds of fireworks going off around them. Akaashi molds their lips together, their lips moving against each other as if they have all the time in the world.

And, Shouyou thinks as his bare fingers sink into the stiff fabric of Akaashi's coat, pulling himself closer, as the first seconds of the new year tick by, he's pretty sure this is what it means to have _all the time in the world_.

"Shouyou," Akaashi breathes out when they part, his breath warm against Shouyou's skin, "I would like to formally ask if you would go out with me."

Only laughter falls from Shouyou's lips, a bright sound he has never heard from himself before. Is this what Akaashi did to him? Bring him so much happiness that he doesn’t know how to contain it?

Was this what love felt like?

"You're silly," Shouyou replies after his giggles have tampered off into a warm smile, "Of course I will!"

The kiss that follows is nothing short of the sweetest kiss Shouyou has ever had before.

**Author's Note:**

> u can screem at me for dragging u into akahina hell at either my writing blog @jwritesangst or my main @htakahiros


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